


This Most Mundane of Fantasies

by madamebadger



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Fix-It, PWP, Post-Canon, Quarians, Rannoch, fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 14:59:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1270729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamebadger/pseuds/madamebadger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a testament to the oddness of her life, Tali thought, that the most exotic place she could think of to have sex was her own kitchen table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Most Mundane of Fantasies

**Author's Note:**

> I was working on something plotty and long, and I finally went, "Screw it, I want to write some PWP." So here we go! Post-ME3, in which I assume that Reegar somehow did not actually die.

It was a testament to the oddness of her life, Tali thought, that the most exotic place she could think of to have sex was her own kitchen table.

She’d been on so many worlds, from steamy Virmire to frozen Noveria, from brutal Tuchanka to the “civilized” Citadel, from the glittering towers of Ilium where any remotely legal thing could be had for a price… to the squalor of Omega, where you could buy all the things that _weren’t_ remotely legal. 

But none of that was as unusual her own kitchen (not a cramped, shared galley) in her own house (not an overstuffed ship) on her own homeworld. None of that was as exotic and forbidden a pleasure as standing bare-faced in the breeze ruffling in the open window, the air of Rannoch not filtered and flash-sterilized but alive with the smell of grass and the blooming of rhanta plants.

And even that sweet smell wasn’t as intoxicating as Kal walking her backwards—or maybe she was dragging him along; it was hard to tell—clumsily because neither of them could stop kissing for long enough to maneuver well. That was becoming par for the course. The first time, they’d had sex in a bed, properly, because Kal had been so careful about treating her right… but since then it’d been a gamble whether they’d even make it out of the hallway. As soon as he touched her bare skin it was like a circuit completed and everything inside her lit up: _need you here, now, no more waiting._ His mouth on hers made her effervesce, all the way down to her toes.

It was hard to get clothes off without quitting kissing, but they managed.

Her ass bumped against the kitchen table, and Kal broke the kiss long enough to bend just a little, hook his hands under her thighs and lift her without any apparent effort at all onto the table. Her heart thundered, and she kissed him, murmured, “Kal,” and wrapped one leg around his back to drag him nearer, feeling him hard against her thigh.

He hooked her other leg up over one elbow, opening her to his gaze, and she let her thighs fall open. He stroked her with his thumb, and she gasped, tipped her head back to let out the breath shakily. He was _always_ so careful, making sure she was ready, warming her up, and she loved it but sometimes she wished he was maybe a little less careful. She swallowed. “Kal,” she said, “it’s all right, I don’t break easily.”

“I know,” Kal said, and… kept at it, stroking around her entrance and then just inside, teasing her, tempting her, making her wetter, as if she hadn’t been wet enough to start. As if it wasn't enough just to indulge this most excitingly mundane of fantasies.

She’d managed to break him of calling her ‘ma’am’ before they’d gotten together, at least (and that was just as well—it would have been weird if he’d called her ma’am during sex… unless it was role-play, and that was a promising thought). If it took a little longer to convince him that she could handle it a little rough, that was okay. 

He was looking at her, his eyes on her face brightly intent as he watched her gasp and writhe at his touch. The stims could make her feel great in a localized way, but Kal touching her could set every nerve in her body on fire. It was good, it was so good, but she wanted more.

She spread her thighs a little wider, swallowed a whine, and said with as much dignity as she could muster, “Kal, _now_.”

He dropped his head so his mouth was right next to her ear, and murmured, “Tali.” Her name spoken in his rough voice made her even crazier than his touch.

His first slow, deep thrust rocked her head back. She gasped at the ceiling, bracing herself on one hand behind her, sliding the other around his neck to pull him close. He nuzzled her throat, said her name again—she quivered all through, _knew_ he could feel it—and she twined fingers in his hair and tugged him up for a kiss, wet, open-mouthed, as he slid out and back in and made her shudder.

Being able to look at his bare face, his bright eyes and his wry, mobile mouth and his strong jaw, was almost as erotic as anything else. How long had she wanted to be able just to _look_ at him, without masks in the way?

He thrust steadily, slow and hard. Her spine curved with pleasure, her hips rising to meet him on each stroke. So much better than nerve stims, so much better than lying in the dark guiltily getting herself off to fantasies of him—Kal, here, real and alive, skin to skin and filling her, driving little cries from the back of her throat.

“I used to fantasize about this,” she said, and was startled at how her voice sounded, deeper than usual and husky. “On Haestrom.”

She didn’t expect the way Kal _groaned_ at that, or the way his hips snapped up hard into her, grinding deep. “Keep talking like that,” he said, his voice a growl, “and y’might actually kill me, Tali.”

She laughed, pulled him in for another kiss. “Does that mean I should stop?”

“Fuck,” he said. He pressed hot kisses to the curve of her shoulder, nipping without breaking the skin. “No.”

“It’s true, though,” she said. “I used to dream that you’d just… pick me up, put me on one of those, hah, stupid camp desks, take me. Just like that.”

He exhaled hard in her ear, pace notching up a bit and hitting just—just—just exactly right inside her. “Any other, hah, thoughts y’wanted to share?”

“Oh,” she said, “lots.” She had to struggle for breath, clutching at his shoulders. “Up against the wall. Bent over one of the consoles. On one of those narrow, you know,” she struggled to maintain coherence, “narrow cots, and having to do it in total silence so we didn’t wake anyone up.” Pleasure was streaking down her spine now, coiling low and hot and tight; she gave up bracing herself on the table, wrapped both arms around his shoulders and clutched tight. It was hard to keep her claws under control. “You were, ahhh, quite the distraction, Kal’Reegar.”

“Keelah,” he said, his beautiful voice with his broad, rough accent. “So were you. Hard not t’stare at you all that time.”

“You were always, mm, a perfect—” she tightened her leg around his waist, trying to draw him in closer, deeper, as her muscles tensed “—gentleman.”

“Worked hard at it. Didn’t seem respectful t’be ogling you.” His voice lowered. “But I thought about touching you.” Hot kisses, fierce and hungry, trailed along her neck and shoulder. “Wanted to see if your skin would be as soft as I imagined.”

It was almost impossible to talk now, pleasure growing in jagged spikes, her body trembling and clenching around him, but she managed to stutter, “And w-was it?”

One of Kal’s hands left where he’d been bracing her hips to stroke her, from her shoulder down over a breast to the dip of her waist, the swell of her hip, the touch at once deeply carnal and oddly reverent. “Softer, Tali,” he whispered, right in her ear, and keelah se’lai, his _voice_ ….

His finger slipped between her legs, stroking her where they were joined, and that was all it took. She arched hard, hands digging into his shoulders and legs dragging him deeper as long ripples of pleasure built and crested. Her fingers curled, her toes curled, so intense she couldn’t stop herself crying aloud—didn’t want to stop herself, to hell with the open window. In the tingling aftermath, as he thrust in counterpoint to her aftershocks, she murmured her pleasure and encouragement until Kal tensed over her and in her, pulled her flush against him and came.

Afterward, feeling ridiculously warm and relaxed and pleased with herself—and him—Tali kissed Kal again, looped her arms around his neck and pulled him in close. “So,” she whispered against his mouth. “ _Do_ you have any particular fantasies you wanted to live out?”

“Plenty,” he said. His lips wandered her face, pressing little kisses to her cheekbones, the tip of her nose, her eyelids, as he stroked a hand through her hair. “Stripping you out of your suit and teasing you until you ask me for everything you want. Seeing what you taste like,” and here he licked along the underside of her chin, “everywhere. And, ah,” and here he hesitated, embarrassed the way he could sometimes get—her brash, brave soldier who nonetheless had his shy, deferential streak.

“What?” she asked, stroking the back of his neck, the muscles of his shoulders.

“Bending you over a console. That was one of mine too.”

Tali laughed, kissed him again, wet and deep. “I think we ought to make a list,” she said, running a fingertip up his chest, “and then work through it. Admirals are very organized, you know.”

He pulled her close against him, tucking her head beneath his chin, holding her with a gentleness that couldn’t conceal his considerable strength. “Yes, ma’am,” he said against her hair.


End file.
